


The Playing Cards of Godric Gryffindor

by rowankhanna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (thanks lee), Chocolate Frog Cards, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Relationship(s), Post-War, Recovery, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 23:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowankhanna/pseuds/rowankhanna
Summary: It falls to George to invite the absent Percy to a family dinner in person; unable to go, he sends Lee instead, only for Lee to discover that Percy Weasley needs help. Urgently. And he's not going to leave Percy to his own devices.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was only briefly edited, so I hope it's okay!

Percy copes for a year.

After a year of not coping, his fireplace lights up green and Lee Jordan steps through. Percy is lying on the sofa, crumpling a shirt that hasn’t been pressed in a very long time, but no one will fire him or even scold him because he’s the only person in the Department for Magical Transportation that knows anything at all about the subject, and the only person whose father once enchanted a car. He doesn’t flinch or look over.

“Jesus, mate. You still have a job?” Lee steps over the piles of books, paperwork, and clothes growing in Percy’s sitting room (he remembers Percy being painfully immaculate at Hogwarts, always sitting and shifting things exactly into position on the desk in the common room). He realises with a horrible pang why none of the Weasleys wanted to visit: Percy is a state. People visited George, and spoke to him, but nobody came for Percy, and he wastes away day by day, alone.

“The day they fire me will be a beautiful one indeed,” Percy mumbles. Lee twitches. Percy Weasley, wanting to be fired? What alternative universe has he accidentally wandered into by Floo? God, no wonder George insisted he go. George might’ve relapsed just at the sight of the tattered flat. He reaches down and picks up a few of Percy’s shirts from the floor, draping them over the back of the sofa. He was asked to extend an invitation for Percy to come to the family dinner, but he’s not sure he’s in any kind of state for that.

“Well, aren’t you lucky my mum taught me cleaning spells before I left home,” Lee mutters, flicking his wand. He doesn’t know where everything is meant to be, but the clothes on the floor fold themselves into neat piles on Percy’s desk, the papers on which sort and the spilled ink returning itself to the wells. He doesn’t know where he’d be without his cleaning spells – in a mess, probably. Much like this, except maybe even worse, because he has none of Percy’s predilection for cleanliness. He tries to think: he has to do _something_. He may never have liked Percy, but letting the poor boy waste away is unfair – everyone struggled after the war, he knows, and everyone deserves the help. “Now, if we were to totally hypothetically go somewhere, would you rather change clothes or keep wearing what you’re wearing now?”

Percy says nothing. Lee grabs his arm, and within a split second, they’re in his flat, Percy collapsing onto the floor. “Excuse me,” he says bitterly, clambering to his feet gracelessly, “where do you think you’re taking me?”

“Just a minute,” Lee says, hurrying over to his rather small desk and grabbing some parchment left over from when he helped Fred and George with their mail order service. His owl, a little screech called Lenny, is more than happy to take a delivery, swooping off through his window with her usual reckless abandon. He wonders sometimes how she ever makes it back, or why she chooses to come back at all.

“Lee, I have work tomorrow. I don’t know what it is that you want with me, but I would like to return home. This is rather burdensome.” Lee glances over; Percy sounds tired, and he looks tired. Lee’s never been much to care about Percy, the two being sworn enemies at Hogwarts, but he’s seen George after the war, George without his Fred, and he knows the pain Percy must be feeling, and if it kills him, he is going to get Percy to do something. He doesn’t need to see another George.

“I’ll send in a letter,” Lee dismisses. “We’re going out camping. You need some fresh air.”

“Lee, please. Cut this out. I need to go to work.”

“Look at you! You’re lying around in clothes that smell like house-elf. Now I’m no expert, so I have no idea what’s gonna help you, but that’s what helped George, so I’m hoping this might work for you. You can’t look at yourself in the mirror and tell me that you’re okay, and in all my amazing Gryffindor conscience, I can’t leave you in that shithole of a house _or_ invite you to any Weasley family dinners knowing you’ll upset them all!”

“I am perfectly capable of handling myself,” Percy snaps.

“Smell yourself and tell me that again,” Lee grumbles, grabbing his camping rucksack and supplies out of the cupboard. “It’s just temporary.” He lifts his wand and calls over a T-shirt and trousers, then grabs Percy’s arm before he can duck out of the way and Apparates out into the only wizarding campsite he knows. It’s fairly quiet, being the off-season, but he recognises Luna’s tent, peculiarly bejewelled and decorated, with purple smoke puffing out from the back; when he was here with George the last time, she was there too, with Rolf. “Hunting Nargles,” Lee mumbles as he flicks his wand, the tent setting itself up (the spell is really rather neat, he thinks).

“Pardon?” Percy frowns.

“Nothing.” Lee sets down his rucksack. “Look, I’m going to go back and get some food. If you’re gone by the time I get back, I’m telling your mum to Floo over to your house.” Percy groans just at the thought and watches Lee disappear with a crack. He thinks about Disapparating away and home, but the thought of Lee getting his mother to come over – it’s just too much. She wouldn’t be able to cope. She would hate him again.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and sits down just outside the tent. Lee returns in a matter of moments and hands a Chocolate Frog to Percy, sitting down next to him. “What’s the card?” he asks, knowing that Ron still collects, even though he says he doesn’t.

“Godric Gryffindor,” Percy snorts. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

“ _It’s like rain_ ,” Lee sings, and chuckles to himself. Percy has no idea what’s going on, and ignores Lee’s antics as he eats the Chocolate Frog. It’s the first thing he’s eaten that’s not a microwaveable meal in months (though the microwave keeps backfiring on him, and he has to revert to Pot Noodle; magic doesn’t like his Muggle technology very much, despite its usefulness), and it’s sweet and lovely.

As he savours a taste he hasn’t enjoyed in years, something rushes back to Percy: memories of Bill giving him a Chocolate Frog when they were much younger, because Percy had been hungry; giving Fred money for one on his first trip on the Hogwarts express; Oliver eating hordes them after winning the Cup in their seventh year. He shuts his eyes, feeling flooded, overloaded with too many emotions to count or name, and he begins to cry. He didn’t even think he could. He thought he’d lost all his tears when his grief had faded to the pervasive numbness that was his everyday.

“Hey,” Lee says softly, putting an arm around Percy, who sobs quietly into his shoulder. He strokes Percy’s hair, which is disgustingly greasy, but he ignores that. Percy almost breaks his heart worse than George: these are the tears of someone left alone to struggle, someone who needs the help he’s never had. George had people looking out for him; when it got too hard for Percy to stop by, nobody had looked out for him; Lee understands everyone is terribly preoccupied, many of them not yet having recovered much themselves, but he feels awful. Sure, Percy had been uptight in school, but it was hardly a reason to forget him. “Hey.” He plays his thumb over a ginger curl and pulls Percy closer. “It’s alright.”

When Percy’s tears finally dry up, Lee takes him a little out of the campsite and they lie on their backs on the grass, staring up at the sky, streaked with the amber and violet of the last throes of the day. Percy doesn’t say very many words. Lee decides to teach him _Ironic_ ; Percy never sings along, but Lee cracks a smile from him, and he thinks that’s enough.

“Can I have that Godric Gryffindor?” he asks.

“Of course,” says Percy, who has been clinging to the card since he got it, but he stops as he reaches over to Lee. “Actually, would you mind if I kept it a little longer? Just a few days.”

“You can keep it forever,” Lee shrugs. “It’s yours.”

Percy doesn’t sleep, nor does Lee, acutely aware of the rather disturbed presence in the sleeping bag across from his. Percy declined any dinner, and his stomach rumbles through the night. He manages an hour of sleep, but no more, and looks utterly exhausted when he emerges the tent at sunrise, only to be set upon by Lenny, who delivers a letter to Lee. Lee refuses to divulge the contents, just says that they’ll be staying another day and that Percy is on official sick leave from work, lest he worry. “Not that you should worry about it,” Lee says as he folds the parchment up. “The department can keep chugging along without you.”

“Jordan,” Percy says tiredly, but with a barely concealed grin at the bad joke, “I implore you to please keep your mouth shut from now on.”

“Can’t help myself,” Lee shrugs. “Now, come on. Breakfast, and no getting out of it, you twig.”

He makes toast and Percy forces himself to eat all of it – it’s probably the first actual meal he’s eaten in days. After they finish eating and Lee gets Percy to put the clothes he’d brought on (Percy looks rather peculiar in a T-shirt and jeans pulled in ridiculously tight because they hang off him), they walk. The area around the campsite is nice, verdant, though they have to take care to avoid its very own Whomping Willow. Percy doesn’t feel like he’s been revived or brought back from the dead, but he feels a smidgen better: he’s not wasting away at home, or aimlessly filling report after report at work, always being asked tricky questions that only he knows the answer to. There’s no meniality out here.

After running into Luna and Rolf and helping them look for tracks (“What kind?” “Any,” said Luna, her eyes twinkling), Lee Apparates the two of them into the nearest town to eat lunch at a Muggle café. Percy doesn’t order much, but under Lee’s watchful eye, he eats all he’s ordered. He even finds himself smiling or laughing once or twice when Lee cracks a joke. It’s almost nice.

Percy sleeps that night.

When he gets up the next morning, Lee is packing up their things. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“You’ll see,” Lee says with a twinkle in his eye, handing Percy a cereal bar, which he finds almost too disgusting to eat at all. It takes just a few swishes and flicks of Lee’s wand now that Percy is out of the tent to collapse everything away and into his rucksack, which he pulls onto his back, glancing over to the other tent in the sizeable yard. “Luna! Are they ready?”

“Is what ready– what the _bloody hell_ is that?” Percy almost jumps out of his skin as Luna and Rolf emerge from the distance, each leading a Thestral - he’s never seen the creature before, his only exposure to it having been in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , and it hardly springs to mind as the great beasts cross the space toward him and Lee.

“Thestral,” says Lee, as if it’s perfectly obvious. “They pulled the carriages into Hogwarts, every year. Course, we’d have never seen any until two years ago.”

Percy’s heart stills as he begins to remember what he read about the creatures, and why he can suddenly see them, and he takes a step back. “I can’t ride that.”

“You can,” says Lee, taking his hand to lead him forward.

“Fred–” He almost chokes on the word; his brother’s name still feels like pain in his throat. Lee looks down at the ground, recognising the strangled sound in his throat, the same sound that he made when he saw the body, still on the floor, permanently captured in his final laugh.

“It’s not going to do anything,” Rolf says, patting the Thestral with one hand. “The death we’ve all seen – riding a Thestral doesn’t bring it back.”

“I know,” Percy says bitterly, “everything does.” Rolf steps aside as Percy mounts the Thestral, who leans down respectfully to let him up, almost sensing the struggle in his heart. Lee almost jumps on the other, rather excited to be flying (he was never good enough for actually playing Quidditch, hence his role as commentator, but his heart longs for the skies). He leads and Percy follows, the fear that comes from being so high in the sky swallowing up everything else as he clings to the Thestral, using all his energy to keep himself from screaming. He’s never been good with heights.

They land in the Hogwarts grounds, where Hagrid is waiting for them, taking the Thestrals once the two have dismounted. “Nice ter see yeh back, Percy,” he nods.

“Sorry,” says Lee, pausing to look at Percy, who looks completely and utterly bewildered, “I might’ve asked McGonagall to take you on here. Working.”

“Lee Jordan,” Percy says coolly, “if I were a vengeful man, I would transfigured you right now into a sea urchin, like I did Pius Thicknesse.”

“I’m hoping you’re not,” Lee replies with a nervous grin. Percy sighs.

“I’m not.”

McGonagall expresses her alarm about the state of Percy more than once, but he says, as he always does, that he’s fine, and she moves on to explain that the two of them (Lee hasn’t managed to hold down a steady job ever since he left school) will be working as general assistants to all teachers and staff as well as keeping an eye on student welfare. She dismisses Percy first, to go help Professor Sprout and Neville Longbottom with repotting the year’s extra rush of Mandrakes.

“You should keep an eye on his welfare, too,” she says to Lee.

“I’m trying, Professor,” he shrugs. “He’s pretty tied up in knots.”

“Well, do tell me if he gets any worse. It wouldn’t do to not help him; help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

“Not that he asked,” Lee mutters to himself.

“Oh, that reminds me, Jordan – we have a vacancy for Quidditch commentators at the moment; none of the students will take up the role. If you could perhaps tone down your excitement, we would be happy to take you on.”

“Oh, I can’t promise anything,” Lee grins, “but I’d love to!”

The months trickle away as Percy falls into the new routine of Hogwarts. He shares a room with Lee, who keeps up correspondence with George so that the family don’t think that Percy has just abandoned them again. He thinks that he rather likes it: it keeps him on his toes and stops him from slipping back into his misery. He likes spending time with Lee, too, even when Lee feeds him a canary cream and he spends several seconds as a large canary. Sometimes when he’s out in the grounds, he even feels like everything might almost be alright.

“How are you liking working here?” Neville asks one day at breakfast (Percy is putting on steady weight from eating now).

“It’s a lot better than the Ministry,” he admits.

“No kidding,” Neville nods. “Being an Auror was just terrible. I couldn’t stay in that job at all, but it’s really nice here. And you could almost forget that there was a battle…”

It strikes Percy with a pang that Neville is right: Hogwarts is so cleaned up from the battle that the thought that Fred died here has never occurred to him (though he’s also avoided the corridor of the scene, which likely helps). He swallows.

“I’m sorry,” Neville says. “It’s still fresh, isn’t it?” Percy nods. “For me, too. I thought I’d never settle back in at the start – I came in and all I could see were the bodies… Oliver Wood came in to teach a few flying lessons, as a treat for the students, and he couldn’t stay.”

“It haunts me,” Percy mumbles. Neville touches his arm, a little tentative, not sure whether or not the gesture will help.

“We can get through this,” he says. “I promise.”

Lee, Neville, and Percy go to the Three Broomsticks together on the next Hogsmeade trip. Lee mentions that George is rethinking expanding out here; Neville remarks that he thinks it’d be nice, but would drive Filch crazy. Someone wolf-whistles at Percy, who doesn’t even realise it was aimed at him until Lee laughs.

“Wow, you’re popular,” he snorts.

“Was that a boy?” Neville asks, peering over Percy’s shoulder. “They get braver every year – and that’s not just the Gryffindors.”

“No, Rita Skeeter outed me at the World Cup final between Ireland and Bulgaria. Caught me with Oliver.”

Neville raises his eyebrows. “ _Really_?”

“Really.” Percy smiles. “Is he better now, by the way?”

“Hope so. Think it was just too soon. Rita Skeeter, though, honestly…”

Percy begins to settle over the next few months, his talks with Neville helping him to begin to overcome the looming shadow of Fred and his days with Lee keeping him going. He doesn’t even mind the next time Lee turns him into a canary, and finds it rather funny. He doesn’t even complain when Lee brings a wireless into their room and plays music in the evenings (Percy finds himself singing along to _Ironic_ one day, unaware he even remembered the words), even when Percy is helping out with marking essays. He starts to feel less like he wants to lie on the sofa all day and more like he wants to get out and do things and read books, and so he does, attending every Quidditch match and internally hanging his head as Lee screeches his anger for the “stupid, cheating” Slytherins again. He even sends an owl to George telling him that he’s thankful George sent Lee, because he’s all the happier for it (well, about as happy as he can get yet). He doesn’t go to any family dinners yet, even though both George and Ginny invite him; he explains to both that he doesn’t think he’s ready and would rather not upset his family by letting them see him in any vulnerable state.

“I don’t know,” says Lee. “I think you’re ready. You’re a lot better. You even bathe.”

“I want to be the best I can be for them after letting them down for so long,” he says, scratching behind his ear at his lengthening curls (why he’s the only Weasley with curls, he’ll never know). Lee nods. “Oh, and… thank you. For everything. You really have saved me.”

“I said to myself after George that I wouldn’t let the war take anyone else,” Lee shrugs. “Couldn’t let it get you, cause it sure almost did.”

“Still. Thank you. I really appreciate the efforts you’ve gone to; I know I’m hardly an easy person to handle.”

Lee laughs. “I knew it was totally gonna be worth it the first time I saw you laugh.”

Percy frowns. “Pardon?”

“I love the way you laugh,” Lee says, flushing. Percy gets up from his desk and walks over, looking down at Lee, who is perched on the edge of the bed. He crouches down so that they’re level. “It’s not an effort to help someone you care about helping,” he whispers, but Percy cuts him off with a kiss, hesitant and tender. Lee cups his hands at the back of Percy’s neck and pulls him deeper. “Fuck,” he mumbles when they pull apart.

“It’s a little early for that,” Percy says with a quirked eyebrow, causing Lee to laugh so hard he falls off the bed, doubled-up and guffawing with completely surprised amusement. “Er, Lee?”

“That was amazing!” Lee laughs from the floor, pulling himself to his feet to kiss Percy again, warm with hilarity. “Holy shit, why don’t you joke more often?”

“I have my reasons,” Percy says with a light smile, putting his arms around Lee, who just giggles more, burying his face in Percy’s chest.

The months after significantly improve, aided in no small part by Lee. The students even seem to be nicer to Percy, who is less detention-happy, and when the invite comes to come for dinner on Sunday, he doesn’t hesitate to reply that of course he’ll be there, though with a plus-one. He thinks it’s the best time: his mother seems swelled with happiness for him, and all his siblings are overjoyed to see him again, particularly George, who hugs him for the longest.

“Merlin,” he whispers, “thought I’d lost you too.”

“Almost,” Percy mumbles, “but he saved me.” He gestures to Lee. George gives the best grin he’s capable of.

“Knew he was good for something.”

“Cleaning spells, mostly.” George chuckles at this, trying to hold in his surprise at hearing his most dour brother actually making a joke – but then, he supposes, Percy has also spent the past year and a half with Lee; for him to not leave joking would be bizarre.

When he goes back to Hogwarts, Percy doesn’t think he’s ever felt better. He reaches out and takes Lee’s hand, leading him down to the Lake, which is surprisingly quiet, and from his back pocket he pulls the Chocolate Frog card of Godric Gryffindor. “I don’t think I need his help anymore,” he says, and reaches back to throw, but Lee grabs his hand.

“Wait,” he says. “Can I have it _now_?”

Percy sighs good-naturedly but nods, handing it to Lee.

“I think we should keep him,” Lee says. “He’s been pretty great, after all. He got you to help yourself. You did it all yourself, you know.” He twirls the card in his fingers. “But you should remind yourself how far you’ve come. I don’t even have to tidy your clothes anymore.”

“No,” says Percy. “I tidy yours.”

Lee snorts, leaning his head on Percy’s shoulder and placing the card in his back pocket as, across the lake, the melting yellow sun sets. He had never expected that this would be the result of taking on one of George’s errands, but he’s rather glad he did.

Percy starts as something hits him in the back, and he spins round to face a grinning, cold-flushed student with a glove full of snow who dashes off immediately. “Hey!” Percy bellows. “You get back here! Right now!” He races across the lightly white fields of the grounds, and Lee just laughs and laughs. Percy is quite the funny one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this and I freaking love Percy, even if it's a slightly random ship. I'm a slave to a rarepair.


End file.
